


Through the Gates of Hell

by quiescentcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Post-Season/Series 12, Season/Series 12, resurrection bitches, tumblr has made me want to tag everything obnoxiously sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiescentcas/pseuds/quiescentcas
Summary: Coda for the season 12 finale. What Jack had in store for Dean may not be the disaster he'd believed it would be, but not everything's always as it seems.





	Through the Gates of Hell

He woke suddenly, his heart racing, and sat up in his bed. For a moment, Dean couldn’t remember how he got there, but as he blinked hard, feeling around the bedside table for his phone, the memories flooded back into his mind.

It was ok. Everything was ok. Hell, everything was perfect, and yet for some God forsaken reason Dean still woke up in the middle of the night plagued by all the memories of his previous life. He had to let it go now; he had to leave his past behind. But no matter how hard he tried, the image of blood soaked hands would always find some way to push to the foreground of his mind sending shocks of desperate panic throughout his body.

Dean checked his phone. It was 2:07am. He’d forgotten to dim the screen down before he’d fallen asleep, and the light at full brightness burned the back of his eyeballs. It made him scowl, but it also was the little switch that erased the memories of this night’s dreams from his mind. He quickly turned the phone back off and laid it back on his bedside table.

Sighing and leaning back against the headboard, he let his eyes fall to the figure lying next to him. Dean couldn’t help smiling as he slid back down next to his best friend, watching the covers moved steadily with Cas’ rhythmic breathing. It was still hard to believe that everything had worked out so well, but death always did have a way of revealing certain truths. Dean couldn’t imagine what he would’ve done had Jack not brought Cas back to life. Not that he felt entirely comfortable with that fact, however. Nothing felt right, yet everything was perfect. More than perfect really; Dean could simply reach out and wrap his arms around Cas’ warm body. In fact he- 

“You’re thinking so loud that you woke me up.”

Dean blinked. He’d been boring holes into the back of Cas’ head with his eyes and had not realized that he was no longer asleep. “Mmmm, sorry.”

Cas shifted, turning himself around to face Dean and reaching his arm out to find one of his hands. Face to face, Cas’ eyes glinted in the dull light that was shining from under the door. 

“What’re you thinking about?” he murmured sleepily, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s knuckles.

“Nothing. Just a weird dream is all.”

Cas blinked and then frowned slightly as he read behind what Dean wasn’t telling him. “Was it a nightmare again?”

“Nah, just a bad dream. I can’t even remember what about.” That was true, for all intents and purposes, but Dean’s nightmares came from real memories, and those he couldn’t so easily forget.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Cas soothed. “You know there’s no evil in this world; that’s why we’re here.”

“Is that what you tell yourself every morning?” said Dean. It must’ve come out a little harsher than he’d intended because Cas’ eyes widened slightly. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t get bad dreams too.”

Cas stopped rubbing Dean’s hands but tightened his grip.

“Only of losing you, Dean.”

Dean flinched, tearing his eyes away from Cas and swinging his legs off the bed. He sat up, letting the sheets fall to his waist. His back was to Cas, but he knew that his eyes hadn’t left him. 

“Is that all?” Dean murmured. “What about all the people you’ve hurt? You’ve killed or condemned hundreds.” 

“Atrocities which, in this world, neither you nor I have committed.”

“Doesn’t mean they never happened,” Dean said bitterly. “This world may be perfect, but I’m definitely not.”

“So?”

“So I don’t deserve to be here,” Dean snapped. He pushed away the sheets clinging to his body and got off the bed. On his way out of the bedroom, he grabbed a dressing gown.

~

He should’ve been surprised to see Charlie alive and sitting in the kitchen of the bunker, but many things had changed in the last couple weeks. Well, except for the fact that she still had a terrible sleep schedule.

“Morning, Dean,” she said quietly. She held up a mug. “Kinda fresh coffee?”

“Uh.” He debated whether he was going to try to sleep more tonight, but nowhere in his mind did that seem like a likely possibility. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get it.”

He shuffled over to the coffee pot, grabbing himself a mug from a high shelf. Once his mug was filled, Dean took a sip. It was lukewarm, but sent a cleansing feeling through Dean’s body. He set the mug down on the table opposite Charlie and pulled up a chair.

“You find anything interesting in the Men of Letters records?” he asked. The books about monsters in this Men of Letters library was all theoretical. Hell, the all books in this world about anything supernatural were nothing more than fiction. Though dead and gone as usual, the Men of Letters had been a secret organization of a more  _ Dexter _ like operation. This bunker was instead protection for nuclear war, killer-virus outbreak, or any other armageddon that humans could bring upon themselves.

“Yeah, but nothing I want to talk about at two in the morning,” Charlie said, shuddering. “I gave up on that hours ago.”

“So what are you doing still awake?”

“Um.” Charlie blushed. “Learning sign language for when Sam and Eileen get back.”

Dean grinned. With no hunting to be done, Sam and Eileen had decided to take a roadtrip together to celebrate their recent reunion. “You realize they’re back in two days. How much do you expect to know by then?”

Charlie flipped him off from behind her laptop.

“Impressive. You’re really getting the basics down.”

“I don’t see you making any more progress than me. You’re not forgetting the bet three of us made, are you?”

“Cas is teaching me.”

“Ah. Must be nice to have a boyfriend fluent in everything,” Charlie teased.

“All our efforts are pointless anyways. You know Kevin is gonna turn up with an ASL vocabulary big enough to give Cas a run for his money.”

Charlie laughed quietly. “Oh god, I know.”

Dean chuckled too, but there was something sobering about the though of Kevin and Eileen talking. Not to mention Charlie sitting in front of him. He took a sip of his coffee to try to hide the frown on his face from her. She noticed anyway.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Dean. He looked away from her, but when he glanced back, she was still watching him. He sighed. “Sometimes it’s just too good to be true.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“It’s just moments like this, with everyone back from the dead, that make me feel the most like something isn’t right; none of this should exist. And then I’ll be stuck wondering, y’know, where are we really? Are we in heaven? Are we dead?”

“You know we’re not, Dean.”

“Then what are we?”

“We’re safe,” said Cas. Dean hadn’t even heard him come in. Cas brushed by him as he sat in the chair next to Dean, continuing to move as quietly and smoothly as a ghost.

A sudden flash behind Dean’s eyes showed Cas lying open eyes in a hospital bed. He pushed it away, but the image was quickly replaced by one of Sam and Eileen getting in a crash on their roadtrip, followed by Charlie getting killed in a mugging.

“ _ Safe. _ What does that even mean?” Dean asked mockingly, feeling his chest tighten. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wipe his mind blank, and upon opening his eyes again, he saw Cas and Charlie, alive, staring up at him, their faces deeply concerned. He hadn’t even noticed himself stand up. Shifting his feet uncomfortably, he muttered, “Someone could still get in a car accident or something stupid.”

“I dream of a death so normal,” Cas answered simply.

“Dean, what you’re talking about is a chance in a million, when hunting has directly put your life at risk so many times. Why is this life so much worse?”

“Because life is about putting yourself out on the line to do something right! If I’m gonna die anyway…” Dean stopped and took a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and more subdued. “I can’t lie and say I’ve never dreamed of this life. I’ve just wished so many times for it all to end that I’d come to terms with the fact that it wouldn’t. Not until I die, and not even past that.”

“But now it has,” said Cas. “It has ended, and you have nothing more to worry about than how to spend the rest of your life with your friends. With me.”

“I can’t possibly deserve this.”

“Yes, you can. You do,” Cas insisted. “All this atonement through hunting was forcing you further and further away from paradise and from believing you deserve to be here.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that people are dying back in the real world.”

“This  _ is _ the real world,” Cas said firmly.

“There are millions of real worlds,” Charlie added. “Jack is like the multiverse theory personified.”

“Which sounds to me like he’s another monster we should gank.”

“ _ I _ was probably a monster you should’ve ‘ganked’ when we first met. But you didn’t.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t try.”

“No, but it was for the better…” Cas stared hard at Dean, then looked down, as if he was closing himself off. “Wasn’t it?”

A twang of pain echoed through Dean’s chest. “Of course, Cas.” He sat back down in his chair and pulled Cas’ hands into one of his own. Cas tilted his head up to look at Dean as he wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, letting his fingers ruffle through Cas’ already messy hair.

“I’d go back and punch old me in the face for trying to kill you,” Dean said. A smile flickered on Cas’ face. “But that doesn’t mean that Jack is going to be like you.”

“He’s only done good things so far. He’s done everything he promised.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. “I still don’t think I can trust him.”

“Then trust me,” said Cas, an earnest look in his eye.

Dean gritted his teeth, but then he nodded and closed the last of the distance between them. Cas leaned into the kiss and broke one of his hands free from Dean to reach up to his cheek.

“Ugh, if you two are gonna start being grossly cute, I guess my time here is up.” Charlie rose from her chair, closing her laptop and gathering her stuff up in her arms. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Sorry, Charlie.” Dean pulled away from Cas to look up at her. “And, uh, thanks.”

She smiled and walked around the table to put her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m here for you, Dean.”

“I know.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” said Cas, lifting his head up tiredly.

She giggled to herself. “Good _ morning _ , bitches.”

After Dean watched her leave, he turned back around and buried his nose in Cas’ hair. He let his eyes fall shut. It was a good feeling, he couldn’t deny, to have no obligations and no reason not stay up with Cas and sleep through tomorrow instead. Nothing to hunt the next day, nothing to worry about hurting Cas, or Sam, or Eileen, or Charlie, or Kevin, or anyone really. At least nothing that only they knew about and could stop. 

“This is it, isn’t it? No monsters, no demons, no angels, nothing.” Dean sighed and leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “It’d be nice to know what was happening back there though. I wish I could… I dunno, summon Crowley or something.”

“But Jack put the fragments of his human soul back into his vess-”

“Yeah, I know. And you can bet he’s over there causing trouble.”

“But it’s not our problem anymore.”

As those words echoed throughout the kitchen, something lifted from Dean’s shoulders, and for once he didn’t feel like he was holding the entire world anymore. “It’s not our problem anymore,” he repeated.

Despite the coffee, Dean was sure he’d finally be able to sleep again. He stood up, pulling Cas with him, and lead the two of them back to their shared room. He let go of Cas only to take off his dressing gown and crawl into the other side of the bed. Once there, he immediately scooched over to the middle and pulled Cas into his arms, hugging him tightly, and placing kisses all along Cas’ brow. Cas moved his head to fit in the crook of Dean’s neck and judging by his warm breath, promptly fell asleep. Dean too shut his eyes and found himself slowly drifting away into the dark night.

But a blazing flash tore his eyes open. He looked around, blinking, feeling a cool breeze that could only come from a lake at night. His knees were sunk into the mud; he was no longer lying down, and Cas was no longer warm in his arms. Breath caught in Dean’s throat as he looked down at Cas who was instead crumpled on the ground, ashen wings staining the muddy ground. The warmth of Dean’s vision slowly left him, and he let out a strangled cry. 

A foreign hand gripped his shoulder, and Dean turn to look at the stranger leaning over him. It was a man, completely naked, with yellow hair that dripped from his head and yellow eyes that blazed from their sockets. His skin glowed, gaunt and pale in the moonlight, and his voice was an urgent whisper:

“Did you see it, Dean? All that I can do for you.” Every fiber of the man was humming. “Did you see paradise?”


End file.
